The Favor
by Shannon Vega
Summary: Summary: F!DB needs an embarrassing favor from a male companion. Or, why stealing from Mages sometimes results in unusual and embarrassing predicaments. Brynjolf/F!DB pairing. From a prompt on the Skyrim kinkmeme site. M for sexual situations and adult language and themes.
1. Chapter 1

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Summary: F!DB needs an embarrassing favor from a male companion. Or, why stealing from Mages sometimes results in unusual and embarrassing predicaments. Brynjolf/F!DB pairing. From a prompt on the Skyrim kinkmeme site. M for sexual situations and adult language and themes.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Skyrim and the Elder Scrolls games are owned by other people-people with lawyers and budgets and huge creative teams. This story is only for fun and I promise not to break the characters too, too much.

Author's Note: I know that I have been out of the writing loop for a while-and for anyone who still reads what I write, thank you. Feedback is welcome and constructive criticism is always welcome as well. Flames and flamers will be ignored and used solely for the purpose of heating my house.

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**Chapter One**

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It had started so simply. She'd accepted a burglary job from Vex and it had gone well. No one had died and she'd flirted outrageously with the mark, leaving him panting even as she stole his treasures. She'd returned that morning from Winterhold. After the cold bleakness of the Mage College, she had been glad for the raucous liveliness of Riften with its jangling of ropes and splashing of waves against boats. It had been a quick descent into the Ratways and her purse was several hundred septums heavier now after Vex had taken possession of the jewel-encrusted drinking horn. Most of the other members of the Thieves Guild had been out, away on jobs and tasks to make the Guild money. Katrin had nodded greetings to her guildmates, happy to be home. More than a few of her guildmates mentioned that Brynjolf needed to talk with her but Katrin shook her head. All she wanted to do was collapse back into her feather bed at Honeyside and sleep for days. If her second-in-command was that desperate for a conversation, she allowed with a grin, then he could find her at her house.

So it was that she trudged to her house, the key heavy in her palm as she unlocked Honeyside. The house with its heavy beams and candlelight had never seemed quite as welcoming as it did at that moment. She smiled, throwing home the bolt behind herself, before she continued deeper into the house. That Iona wasn't immediately in sight caused her a moment of consternation—she'd grown to like her housecarl—but she assumed that the blonde woman was somewhere in Riften doing her own errands. She turned into her bedchamber, fingers moving with sure precision over the multitude of belts and buckles that dominated her Guild Leader's armor.

The click behind her was soft—almost too soft to hear—but Katrin tensed, turning instinctively towards the sound. It couldn't be a good sound, her mind told her, and she started to dive to one side of the bed.

The darkness that followed, stealing away her breath and her senses, sent her crashing to the floor. Her last conscious thought was that this definitely was bad.

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Brynjolf frowned down at the ledger. The guild was doing better, that much had been assured by the removal of Mercer Frey and the leadership of their new guild leader. But he still needed to discuss certain matters away from the cistern and the prying eyes and ears of their guildmates. And waiting for Katrin to return from Winterhold had chaffed him to no end. While he appreciated her willingness to get her hands dirty, he sometimes wished that their Guildleader was as easy to find as Mercer had been.

Then again, Brynjolf reminded himself as he climbed the ladder out of the cistern to the crypt entrance, Katrin wasn't stealing the guild blind like her predecessor had. For a thief she was remarkably honorable. Not that she wouldn't rob a mark blind, but that was a mark. Guild was different. In fact, he was going to have to start making her take her fair share of the loot—she brought in more than her fair share of the wealth but making her take a cut was like pulling one of Delvin's teeth.

The path to Honeyside wasn't difficult and Brynjolf found himself wondering, yet again, why his guild leader hadn't left her house for three days. At first he'd thought that Iona might have been ill and Katrin might have been tending to her housecarl. But he'd just heard that Iona was in Windhelm visiting her cousins—and hadn't been in town for over a week before Katrin came back from Winterhold. Which made him wonder if Katrin might have gotten sick in Winterhold. Volunteering himself to go check on their guild leader made sense, he told himself as he pulled out his picks. Nevermind the leer that Delvin shot him nor the amused look on Vex's face.

The lock came open easy and Brynjolf stepped inside, already phrasing in his head the case for Katrin to have her locks changed. Despite his own ability with lockpicking, it shouldn't take less than twenty seconds for him to pick her door open.

The sound of quiet sobbing stopped him in mid-thought and Brynjolf pulled his daggers, green eyes narrowing. "Lass?" he called softly, padding towards the sound of crying. "Are you alright?"

Stepping into the bedchamber, he found himself brought up short. Laid out atop the comforter was his guild leader in the shortest, sheerest negligee he'd ever seen. Her body was taut, her back arched as she twisted against something unseen. Her hands were bound above her head, tied to the headboard, and her legs were spread, ropes tied loosely to her ankles. Her heels drove deep into the mattress as she arched off the bed, panting and sobbing. If he didn't know better, he'd think that she was being fucked by something, though nothing was in view and he heard no sign of anyone in the house other than his Guild leader. He stepped closer.

"Lass?" he called again.

Katrin's eyes shot open, her sapphire blue eyes dazed. "Bryn?" she whispered. "Help me," she pleaded. "You have to—make it stop!"

Brynjolf nodded, moving to the ropes and beginning to slice through them with his dagger. He frowned as the blade of his dagger passed through the rope but left the rope fully intact. "What sorcery is this?" he muttered, grabbing the rope with his hand to make sure that it was really there. Yup, solid as Delvin's head.

Katrin shook her head. "Winterhold. Mage's College. Think the mark got mad about his cup." She managed all the words in one whooshing breath before arching off the bed once again with a cry.

Brynjolf sighed. Mages. Fuck. "So how do we get you free?" he asked, raking his hand through his blood-red mane as he dropped onto the edge of the feather mattress. His eyes swept the interior of Katrin's bedroom in distraction—it was actually a pretty room. Needed to have a door, but other than that, not bad. Not exactly what he would have pictured for Katrin, but she usually managed to surprise him.

Katrin swallowed, eyes squeezed shut as her blush started again. She rarely if ever asked Brynjolf for a favor—and this one would be a doozy of one. "You have to get it out of me."

Brynjolf growled. "Get what out of where?"

Katrin felt the blush heating her cheeks even more. Bad enough that it had been Brynjolf, a man who made her toes curl with his sultry accent, to come and find her like this but for her to have no alternative than ask him to help her—the gods hated her. Damned mages and their bizarre revenge tactics. "Bryn, there's something inside me. I need you to take it out of me. It's…" she swallowed, closing her eyes against another wave of sensation. Whatever cursed object was between her legs had kept her on the verge of orgasm for the last three days. Just when she thought she was going to have blessed release, it eased off. "I can't take this for another three days," she panted, eyes snapping open to meet the red-haired Nord.

Brynjolf moved closer to her. The heat coming off her body reminded him of his gran's hearth. Warm. Comforting. Home. "Lass, you realize what you're asking," he groaned, pushing her damp hair from her brow. He would be blind and stupid not to have realized that his guild leader was a beauty. Not to mention that she fair oozed sensuality in her every move. And, aside from his blind trust in Mercer, no one had ever called him stupid or blind. Well, no one except for Vex and Delvin, he allowed, but they didn't count. And now she was begging him to delve into her womanhood as a mission of mercy. The universe had a sick sense of humor.

Katrin nodded. "Please, Bryn."

Brynjolf breathed out slowly. "Alright, lass. I'll do what I can," he promised.

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	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: See Chapter One. Nothing has changed. Still own nothing.

Author's Note: Ahead there be slight kink. Thank you for not flaming. Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts on how the story is progressing. I really appreciate feedback.

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**Chapter Two**

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Katrin relaxed a little with his promise. Ever since she'd first arrived in Riften and helped him to frame the Dunmer shopkeeper (which she still felt a touch of guilt about, to be honest), he'd always played straight with her. He'd done his level best to protect and help her, even coming on some of her jobs. So, if the big red-haired Nord promised to help her get out whatever was inside her, she knew he'd succeed. "Think of it as pickpocketing with a twist," she offered breathlessly.

Brynjolf chuckled. Trust his protégée to try to lighten the mood. Standing, he stripped off his jacket, tossing the leather over the chair beside her bed. Rolling up the sleeves of his tunic, he climbed back onto the mattress, though now he was kneeling between her shapely thighs. "Nice, lass. Now, I'll try to cause you as little discom-" he began.

Katrin rolled her eyes and lifted her head off the pillow. "Bryn, by the Eight if you don't start working, I'll filet you," she ground out, already feeling the object inside her starting her back on the course of slow burn.

Brynjolf shook his head, smirking, but turned his attention to the job at hand. And what a job, he thought, sliding his hands up her inner thighs. The flesh quivered underhand and he tried to ignore her sharp, rasping intake of breath. Pickpocketing indeed, he thought, finally reaching the junction of her thighs. Whomever had trussed her up and dressed her (he was fairly certain that the gown on Katrin wasn't something she'd be wearing to bed alone and asking her at this juncture might be tantamount to suicide) had found a lovely pair of undergarments to match. "I'm going to need to cut these off," he warned, glancing up to meet her gaze.

Katrin nodded. "Do it, Bryn," she groaned, willing herself to be still. Not exactly easy since she now had the dual sensory imputs of Bryn's touch and that THING inside her.

Brynjolf nodded and, with a quick flick of his dagger, soon had shredded the sides of her undergarments, the cloth falling away to give him a clear view of the target. That's right, old man, he scolded himself. Think of her as nothing more than a safe to crack or a lock to pick. Tugging the cloth free, he tossed it aside. "Relax, lass," he ordered with a smirk.

Katrin closed her eyes at the first touch of his hand. His fingers slid over her nethers, carefully parting her enough to reach her channel. His touch was just as she had imagined—sure and warm and intoxicating. Slowly he inserted a finger inside her, sawing it back and forth to moisten her further. "Gah," she groaned, arching against his touch as he added a second and then a third finger inside her. "Bryn."

Brynjolf took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Just another job, he reminded himself, before he pushed his fingers further inside her passage. The heat and damp and pressure were amazing and Brynjolf felt himself get harder than he already was. It didn't help that the woman he was currently plundering was cooing and moaning above him. "Don't feel anything yet, lass. Going just a wee bit further."

Katrin nodded, eyes closed as she felt the sensations washing over her. She didn't think she was capable of speech at just this moment and found herself pressing against his questing fingers, chasing his touch.

Brynjolf frowned as he slid deeper inside her clenching channel. He could sense it—whatever it was—just beyond his reach. "Just a little deeper, love," he murmured, sliding his fingers as deep as they could reach. Finally, he brushed metal. His fingertips ran over the markings on the object and he finally found what he was looking for. Even though the object was deep inside her, whomever placed it within her would have had to have used some sort of handle. And he had found it. Fingertips grasping, he began to slowly pull it out. "Got it," he grinned as he slowly pulled it from her channel and into the light of her bedroom for his first look at it. Dwemer. That much was certain. Standing, he put the device on the floor and slammed his boot heel down on it, his smile grim as he watched it shatter into dozens of pieces. "Alright, lass."

Katrin slowly opened her eyes, meeting the grinning face of Brynjolf. "Thank you, Bryn."

Brynjolf chuckled, shaking his head. "I would say my pleasure," he began, already reaching for the ropes that bound her. This time his knife sliced through the ropes with a satisfying ferocity and he tucked his blades back into their sheaths.

The flying tackle that sent him sprawling onto the mattress came as something of a surprise. Blinking owlishly, he found himself staring up into the flushed face of his Guild leader. "Oh, but it can be, Bryn," cooed Katrin, her lips grazing his ear before her fingers dragged his tunic up and over his head. Her hands moved over his pectoral and abdominal muscles before descending to the waistband of his trousers. "Can I go just a wee bit further?" she whispered, her fingers sliding teasingly down to cup him through his leathers.

Brynjolf swallowed, feeling her settling her weight on his thighs as she straddled him. "Who am I to resist a beautiful woman," he replied with a grin.

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	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: See Chapter One. Nothing has changed. Still own nothing.

Author's Note: Ahead there be more kink. And sex. Thank you for not flaming. Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts on how the story is progressing. I really appreciate feedback.

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**Chapter Three**

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Katrin chuckled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his Adam's apple. "Well, you are my rescuer, Bryn," she allowed, sliding her hands up to trace the trail of red hair that dusted his chest and descended down below his beltline. "It seems only fitting that I show you my…appreciation," she cooed, her hands making short work of the closures of his trousers and spreading them wide.

Brynjolf hissed as he was laid bare—he wasn't one for wearing a loincloth beneath his trousers—and his cock sprang free as if powered by some ancient Dwemer mechanism. "Be easy, lass," he whispered, suddenly realizing just how at her mercy he was.

Katrin stared down at his manhood, entranced. "It's so pretty, Bryn," she murmured, tracing the velvety skin of his foreskin with her fingertips before closing her hand around his cock. "And it looks like it tastes so good. May I?" she asked, delight dancing in her blue eyes.

Brynjolf nodded silently, watching as Katrin quickly arranged herself to his side and slowly descended. His eyes rolled back in his head at the first touch of her mouth on his manhood and he let out a shuddering breath. Grabbing a pillow, he shoved it under his head to get a better view—and what a view it was. Between the sight of her suckling him, her eyes closed and her cheeks hollowed out, and the sight of her unclad privates within easy reach, he was hard-pressed to think of a more delectable sight. The sight of her wriggling hips as she suckled him gave him an idea and he quickly put his plan into motion. Grasping her hips, he lifted her so that she sat astride his face, her beautiful pink, perfect nethers now directly over his mouth.

"Bryn?" squeaked Katrin, startled enough to stop her suckling of his cock.

Bryn chuckled. "Don't worry, lass. Just want to make sure that you don't feel ignored. Keep going. You'll enjoy this," he promised, turning his attention to the beautiful folds before him. As he felt her lips close over him again, he pulled her down, his tongue tracing her folds with exquisite care and thoroughness. Soon he had found her tender little clitoris, his tongue curling around the delicate bud and earning him a muffled shriek. While his tongue massaged the pearl of flesh, his fingers returned to her clenching passage, curling just so. Stroking the spongy flesh inside her that would make her scream, he began his onslaught in earnest.

Katrin gave as good as she got—or tried to. But three days of being on the verge of orgasm and Brynjolf's determined efforts between her thighs soon had her caterwauling with pleasure. Gasping, shaking, she barely noticed as Brynjolf once again maneuvered her body, this time pulling her up to sprawl atop him with her head resting on his chest. "That was…"she trailed off.

Bryn smiled. "Feel better, lass?" He stroked his hand down her back, her negligee rucked up around her waist and giving him lovely access to all of her curves.

Katrin nodded slowly, blinking sleepily. For the first time in three days the maddening sexual tension was gone. She felt blissfully relaxed and safe. "You are amazing," she whispered around a yawn.

Brynjolf chuckled. "I know, lass. I think you need a wee rest, though." He smoothed his hands down over the curve of her ass, filling his palms with her luscious curves. "Before we do any more playing."

Katrin nodded slowly, suddenly feeling the effects of the past three days seeping through her body as a wave of exhaustion. "Will you be here when I wake, Bryn?" she asked, lifting her head from Brynjolf's chest to meet his gaze.

His rumbling chuckle shook his chest, vibrating through her body as she lay sprawled atop him. "Aye, lass. I'll be here as long as you want me," he promised.

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